Release Candidate

  Tomás rubbed his red face with both hands. ‘One of you has got to tell me what I, him, wants to hear. That’s what pushed me here. I want to be free!’

  Alejandro pushed his face right up to Tomás’s. Their noses touched.

  ‘Does this look like a confession box? There’s the door! Go snort some shit and end yourself!’

  ‘Hold on.’ said Esther. ‘If your problem is what you say it is, which, looking at you could be true, I am willing to let it go. I already did when they told me it was by a rope. My eyes went sore that night. And for a time after. Even now. You remind me of Pascual as a little boy chasing after me, pulling my hair. But maybe I’m losing it now.’

  Tomás breathed out. ‘What you just said calmed my heartbeat. I feel some sort of lightness in my skull.’

  Alejandro looked down.

  ‘Esther, Alejandro. Do one thing for me.’

  Alejandro shook his head and tutted.

  ‘Keep everything that happened here between us hush.’ added Tomás.

  ‘From all the shit that happens nowadays maybe this is no bull.’ Alejandro folded his arms. ‘Better you have this useless meat than him. I washed my hands of it a long long time ago. It can go rot for all I care as long as it’s somewhere other than here.’ he extended a hand. Tomás shook it. ‘If one day your story slips, someone will do you. Be sure of that. Either way, you’re nothing to do with me.’ he pointed towards the door. ‘Fuck with our memories again and I’ll break your neck.’

  Esther nodded.

  ‘This has been helpful.’ said Tomás. ‘Don’t worry now. I better go back before panic reaches my house.’

  Alejandro grabbed Tomás by the shirt and threw him out. Esther followed. She waved a just-caught goodbye as the door thudded shut. Tomás looked around the hallway. All lights were off. On his way down he nearly stumbled on a step.

  8

  Outside he saw the blurry red trails of a few cars zooming by. He walked down the street and crossed the road. To his left, a lit shop portion of a petrol station made him lick his lips.

  Venturing into it he paused at the curb as a car pulled in. Inside the shop the bright white light stabbed at his eyes. Words and pictures on the row of magazines looked as if they bled into each other. He picked up the first crisps-looking item he could make out. The humming refrigerator attracted his hands to a cold, wet and bright soft drink can. As he approached the cashier he nearly lost balance and fell back.

  The cashier waved a red light-pen over the items. ‘One eighty-five.’

  Tomás shook his head. He grimaced as he dug the note from a trouser pocket. Coins pinged to the ground. Crouching to pick them he wobbled as he stood back up.

  ‘Mr, I am not appreciate your intoxication.’ said the cashier.

  ‘Smell my breath.’ he blew out.

  ‘Okay. But there is other peoples behind you.’

  Tomás picked up his items and walked out. He jolted as a pulling-in car beeped him. Further down the street he spotted a bus stop. He clawed against passing brickwork towards it. Haloed lights protruded fine long needles.

  The spotty, white driver who beeped Tomás returned to his car from the petrol shop. Slamming the door, he wiped his nose on the back of a hand. He scrunched a receipt and threw it in the glove compartment. Squinting his eyes he looked out the dusty rear window then back ahead. From the compartment he pulled out what resembled a dark glass marble and placed it in an ear. He finger-scribbled his phone on top of the dashboard. A tone rang.

  ‘Yo, Mooney, mate. I just been down gettin’ some gas an’ I saw this br’er who looks a bit like the one who fucked yer bro over a while back now. Prob bust out or somefing maybe? Try’n’ ‘a look all different now!’

  ‘You just s-smoked a b-bit too much.’

  ‘Nah, man! Saw ‘im ‘ere, down Scotch Com. His olds live ‘ere, innit?’

  ‘You’re r-right there. I bet you ain’t g-got anything t-to send to my ph-phone?’

  ‘Sorry, man. My noggin’s a lil slow y’see. But I’m sayin’ you should tape yer eyelids up. I can sniff ‘n sort ‘im out now, if ya want? I got a big shiny one on me, ya get me? I’ll go ‘ave a lil cruise round now, an’ if I see ‘im I’ll wing somefing to yer screen, alright?’

  ‘S-sounds g-good to me! But I ain’t heard of any birds b-breaking out of that c-cage before.’

  ‘Well, ‘oever he is, we’ll just say ‘e’s like a voodoo doll an’ hope pinnin’ him up gets Peddy either way!’ he laughed. ‘An’ I’m runnin’ out o’ dough anyway. The pumps always want more when you can feel yer emp’y pockets.’

  ‘K-keep an eye around you th-though, man. I hate c-coming down to p-pull you from the pigs. But if it is him, you p-pound that meat!’

  ‘Bruv, listen out for a ring.’ he hung up.

  He pressed a button on the dashboard and drove out.

  Seeing Tomás standing at the bus stop brought on a grin. He lifted his phone and pressed a button on the side of it. A miniature Tomás flickered above the screen. A screen-tap pushed out the lens. He pulled downward as he got closer. A high definition image framed Tomás leaning against the stop’s post. A vintage camera click froze the image. He drove past nodding to himself like a back seat toy.

  He parked around the back. Two screen taps brought up a fast-filling progress bar. The phone chimed loud. He got out and slammed the door. As he approached the turn to the street his phone rang a generic sample of Ibiza dance music. He pressed a green speech bubble icon.

  ‘Hey, H-Horry! Almost a s-spitting image there! Must’ve found a d-damn good surgeon. This ain’t n-no voodoo doll. G-get him in an alleyway or s-something!’

  ‘Control yer ‘ard on, man! If you can send me some muscle that’d be wicked. I ain’t gonna be starin’ at no clock, though.’

  ‘I know some b-beef down there. Don’t hold your b-breath, though. I’ll forward that picture so don’t g-go w-wandering far. Man, you do this and you c-can just call me g-genie from now on!’

  ‘This treat’s on me.’ he adjusted his collar.

  The phone beeped off.

  Horry turned. A bus slowly approached the bus stop. Jogging down he saw Tomás pulling coins out of his pocket.

  ‘Oi!’ shouted Horry.

  ‘Me?’

  Horry nodded.

  ‘Look, I don’t buy knock-off stuff. I just want to go home.’

  ‘Fuck that shit, Pascy! You don’t need a ride fer that.’

  The bus seemed to pass gas.

  ‘The lighting here’s poor, I’ll let you off.’ Tomás scratched his head.

  ‘Nah, nah. Don’t say I’m nuts, Pascy! I could tell even if I needed a guide dog. Where the hell you snakin’ off to, eh?’

  ‘Look, please, you’re holding up the bus.’ he shook his head. Horry appeared as if a smaller repeat face emerged from his nose.

  Tomás set foot on the bus. A tug on his elbow pulled him back on the street.

  ‘You must’a been downin’ a few glasses!’ Horry said loudly.

  The driver shook his head at them. The doors hissed shut. Seconds later the bus rolled off.

  ‘You want some change or something? I’m running low myself!’

  ‘You dickin’ wiv me or somefing?’

  ‘I don’t know who Pascual is.’

  ‘I said Pascy, not what your mum calls you.’

  Horry looked left then right. A tall black man jogged in from nowhere.

  ‘Babatunde.’ mouthed Tomás silently.

  A panting Babatunde stood an inch away from Tomás. His eyes widened.

  ‘Ra. And there was me telling ol’ Mooney this boy he want is gone up to de Lord.’

  ‘So, you’re meant ta be a goner?’ grinned Horry.

  ‘Look! You guys... This is all getting fucked up now!’ Tomás started shaking.

  ‘D’yamn fool got all spiky on me in de nick, ya nah? I’s in no hurry wit dis one!’

  Tomás felt his feet hover as Horry grabbed him from behind. Babatunde followed as
Tomás kicked air entering the backstreet. They passed a fluorescent-sprayed wall mural to the refuse area of a restaurant.

  Babatunde cupped Tomás’s jaw tight as it opened. Tomás’s effort to scream came as a whimper. He shut his eyes tight. His back clanged against railings. A fist to the stomach bent him forward. He slowly opened his eyes. Everything looked hazy.

  ‘‘ow did you even ‘ave the nerve to walk these streets again, eh?’

  Two instances of Babatunde slowly merged.

  Tomás exhaled wildly. ‘Won’t you hear me out first? Please, just leave me be!’

  ‘Ra. I never t’ought I be hearing you bawl like dat.’ he laughed. ‘You didn’t tink of dat when you start on me for no ree-son.’ he sucked his teeth.

  ‘And fer messin’ wiv my mates!’

  Tomás held his stomach. Above him the full moon appeared motion-blurred through tears.

  ‘Go on ‘en, spit out some bull!’

  Babatunde’s laugh hissed through his teeth.

  Tomás put his palms on his knees for leverage. A harder punch from Horry made Tomás repeat the procedure. Babatunde’s nasal laugh morphed into radio crackle. He slapped Tomás on the side of his face. It turned bright red.

  ‘I’m not fucking Pascual!’ he screamed. A thin line of clear phlegm emerged from a nostril. ‘Oh, God why?’

  ‘Well yer not Winston bloody Churchill, are ya?’

  ‘I’m To...!’

  Before he could finish, Babatunde kneed him between the legs. Tomás opened his mouth. No sound came out. He cupped his groin.

  ‘What’s all this story-cookin’ bullshit? It don’t matter if yer fuckin’ Santa. Still gonna do you!’

  A larger line of phlegm passed between Tomás’s lips. Shaking, he stood up once more.

  ‘Pascual does not exist.’ his voice took on grit. ‘Now get out of my way!’ he tried to walk through the pair. Babatunde pushed him back.

  ‘Ra. You must’a got some severe bops to de skull already.’

  ‘Did this fool ever do this to his hair?’ Tomás pointed to his head. ‘Did he try and run like a sissy?’

  ‘Yeah. ‘e did go fer the slaphead. Often. An’ fuckin’ pussies inside must’a turned you sweet!’

  ‘Ra. And you were in some real hurry to get your face re-arrange. And now you here to do it by us.’

  Tomás snorted his phlegm. ‘Guys like you. You’re just butcher shop stuff and you don’t know it.’

  The sound of flicking plastic came from Horry’s fist. Tomás spotted a dull shine.

  ‘Look, mate. People splash ketchup ‘ere all the time. An’ I’ve dunked a few chips in my life, as you well know. I am well-shocked you chose babblin’ over yer fists. But ‘ey, I guess you’re in an ‘urry to go.’

  Tomás breathed in. He slowly curled his fingers into tight white-knuckled balls. A split second before Horry could strike, Tomás threw a hard left. Horry fell to the ground. His weapon rattled beside him. Tomás ran down the street. His feet echoed loudly on the pavement. Babatunde ran after him. Horry’s steps soon joined in.

  ‘Oi, back ‘ere you cunt!’

  Tomás ran a jagged line, bumping into walls on his left and nearly entering the road. As he turned their running briefly muted. He blinked continuously, making his bouncing view resemble a flip book. The footsteps from behind increased in volume. Drawing a deep breath he turned fast into another corner.

  To his left were a row of flats with gated steps leading to basements. With their feet about to sound clear again Tomás eyed a random entrance and leapt over. He landed at the bottom with a loud thud on his knees and elbows. Crawling to the shadowed part away from the flat’s door he curbed his breathing and curled up. The clopping of braking feet approached and stopped. Tomás shut his eyes tight.

  ‘What the fuck? ‘e can’t’a turned ‘at quick!’

  Babatunde bent over to puff air. He looked around. To the right of them was a small private park. The entrance had a padlock. Babatunde nodded towards it.

  ‘Nah, nah.’ said Horry. ‘We’d be ‘ere in time ta see ‘im gettin’ over. Nah, that bastard’s doin’ a crafty. Hush yer feet.’

  ‘Soom house is maybe taking pity on him?’ he stood straight.

  ‘Or e’s got a friend ‘ere?’

  Tomás heard footsteps. He tucked his head further into his chest. Pulling his right leg in made his mouth silently open. The shadows of their legs added a layer of darkness to his spot. Their steps backed to the early half of the street. He let out a quiet sigh.

  Several minutes passed before the steps disappeared. He slowly unfurled. Above him the sky was sea blue. He slowly shifted to the other end and turned from the door to slap his hands against pebble-speckled steps. He climbed aged-dog style towards the gate. Each step imprinted irregular circles on his palms.

  When eye-level with the bottom of the gate he glanced down the left of the street. Nothing. He used the railings to pull himself up. The gate squeaked outward with his weight. Quickly limping out he began to make his way to the right. A gate clanged distantly behind him. Looking back he saw them emerge from another basement.

  ‘Marilyn!’ he fell on his back.

  The moon shone bright between Babatunde and Horry’s faces. Tomás spat a mass of clear liquid upon boots hitting his stomach. His ears began to ring as his head repeatedly shook on being kicked. When the back of his head slapped against the pavement his eyes flickered shut.

  ‘What you waiting for?’ asked Babatunde.

  Horry nodded. He flicked open his knife.

  ‘Oi!’ shouted an old man’s voice from below.

  Horry and Babatunde looked up. Thin wood banged against the bottom of the gate from where Tomás had emerged.

  ‘I’ve called the boyth in blue on you. Thon’t think I’m having a laugh! You’ll hear them nee-naw nee-naw any thime now. Go on, shoo!’

  Babatunde’s eyes widened. ‘Best split, mon!’ he whispered to Horry.

  ‘Guess ‘at’s enough ketchup, ‘en!’

  Babatunde nodded. They ran down the street.

  The old man’s walking stick sounded like a connecting snooker cue as he wobbled up a few steps. When eye-level with the pavement he saw the pair disappear into the blackness. Another step up he saw a small, slow-expanding pool of reflection-free liquid beside Tomás’s still body.

  ‘Oh thear Lord!’ his razor-bump-red chin quivered.

  Shuffling forward he saw the source was Tomás’s mouth, a nostril and both ears. The pool appeared to halt.

  ‘Young man, I hope my voith is gettin’ through thoo you?’

  Nothing.

  ‘If you can, you keep a hang on yourthelf there, lad! I wish I thidn’t wait thoo open the door but I’m no heavyweighth champ, you know?’

  The old man quivered. He periodically looked to where the assailants ran. Tomás laid still with one knee bent and arms by his sides.

  An eternity-seeming few minutes passed before a distant siren wailed. Another few seconds went as faint flashing blue light bounced off walls down the road. A highlighter yellow car screeched in. Two black-vested officers, one female, with large guns at their hips, opened and slammed their doors.

  ‘I wish I wasn’th an old man!’ he shed a tear. ‘Yobth. Some yobs! Like dogs afther a cat.’

  ‘Alright. Take a deep breath, sir. Did you get any kind of glimpse?’ asked the female officer.

  The old man’s reply was delayed by a crackle and burst of code-speak emitting from the other officer’s collar. The female officer knelt before Tomás.

  ‘Blurry, thon’t have my glasses on. All I hearth was a boom at my front thoor while I had toothpasthe in my mouth. I lefth the bathroom, put my lefth ear against it, other ear is useless you thee, and thought somebothy was having a heart athack! Then I thought maybe it’s thumb one trying thoo break in. Then I thought it was you lot afther him and you were closing in. But then I hearth very horrible thounds. I thell you, it makes me shiver thoo see a young man on the floor thith way.’ />
  The female officer looked up. ‘Sir, you did brilliant. Our phone hardly rings from people these days. Lack of trust.’

  ‘I woulth’ve been like that but I’ve hath inthidents with rowdy kids mythelf.’

  Shortly after, an ambulance rolled in quietly. It parked behind the police car. Two paramedics burst out and hurried a stretcher from the back.

  The female officer patted around Tomás’s body. ‘No phone. Nothing to sort him from Joe Public.’

  ‘This isn’t pretty.’ said a paramedic. He gently moved Tomás’s head. His partner helped shift Tomás to the stretcher.

  ‘Sir, you should get some rest.’ said the male officer. ‘We may need you to help with paperwork when the sun hits, but try not to let what happened here affect you.’

  The old man nodded. He took a final look at Tomás before opening his gate. The paramedics eased Tomás into the ambulance. The female officer nodded to her colleague who responded by getting in the car. She went and sat beside Tomás in the ambulance. Shortly afterwards both vehicles went in separate directions.

  The paramedic cleared Tomás’s drying blood with a wipe. He gently shook Tomás’s shoulder.

  ‘Mate, we’re here to take you to hospital!’

  Tomás laid still. His face shone yellow. The paramedic shook his head at the officer.

  ‘I really hope that he’s out cold in a basic way, but that’s not the case with even lesser injuries.’

  The officer looked at Tomás. ‘I’m not sure but he reminds me a bit of someone. Could just be one of those faces, though, I guess.’

  ‘Well, if a light bulb pops up you could reduce the tears of some loved ones.’

  The officer pulled a mobile phone out of her pocket. A button press turned the screen into a viewfinder. The grainy image was dark. She held the phone up and tilted it forward. On framing a clear semi-profile of Tomás’s face she pressed a button.

  9

  Several hours later Marilyn opened her eyes and rolled over. Her hand sunk on Tomás’s rolled up duvet end. She raised her head.

  ‘You haven’t cut something else again, have you?’ she shouted.

  Several seconds later she got up and walked to the bathroom door. It was unlocked. She glanced at his grooming items before walking back to the bedroom. The hands on her watch formed a hunched reverse L. His mobile was by the bedside. She put her slippers on with her heels squashing the backs and ran to the kitchen. Then to the living room. Then running up to her in-laws she barged in.